


Inferno

by lexari



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Feels, Gen, Major Character Injury, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Sad, Sadstuck, Texas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexari/pseuds/lexari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Striders always go out in a blaze of glory. </p>
<p>Post Game Alternate Universe where our kids have beaten the game, and returned to the day of John's Birthday, but they still remember the events of the Game. Only, on this day, the Condesce has decided to take over Earth.</p>
<p>Strider-Centric fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferno

Dave ran. Bro followed. Bro had never followed before.

As they leap from building to building, a barrage of missles, gun shots, and fire, Dave speaks to his Bro, his voice rough, hoarse with dirt and dust and the ash that was once their beautiful city. Hoarse but strong, used to burning cloud in his lungs and blood on his cheek and of fighting through armies.

"What is going--," he stops to slice his way through a drones head/mainframe, "on here?"

Bro stays silent, his unsure demeanor woven in his unpaced stride; he was confused, he was shocked. Dave is asking him for information, yet was the one leading Bro to safety. It was a mindnumbing combination, and Bro wondered how his thirteen year old protege had surpassed him in one night. He makes a sloppy step; Dave catches his arm. At any other time, Dave helping Bro would have been a hilarity, a miracle, a once in a lifetime occurence that would be accompanied by laughter and day-old cold pizza, maybe even a strife to put Dave back in his place. Not today. Their sibling rivalry had transformed into an unbreakable partnership of trembling voices, tossed away shades, and katanas at the ready. Bro hopes he could keep his katana steady; Dave knows he can, instinct scratching at the surface from his inside, whispering, "You are a God, you are a God, you are a GOD". They leap once more, over a far-too-large clearing between landings; misjudged distance transforming into a wild stretch to grasp the hot steel that was left from the structures of multiple skyscrapers. Bro grasps on to one of the bars; leather gloves that once protected his overly calloused hands begin to melt on to his skin, giving off the scent of flesh and treated leather; he feels his fingers crack, and the bar bend with the struggle of holding far too much weight. Dave falls further, before catching a thicker bar of his own; where Bro lands by luck, Dave executes a simple grasp as a masterful skill. His hands cook instantly, and he can feel his skin begin to bubble from fifth degree burns; he does not flinch, Dave is used to burning hot steel. His hands had never healed from the game, and in this moment, he realizes that Sburb and his new reality were far too similar. Earth was transforming into a makeshift LOHAC; hot and unforgiving. Dave tries to go back in time for a split second.

He can't.

This is reality. There is no such thing as powers here. And yet, it was a shattered, broken reality. They beat the game; they lost contact with all the trolls, cherubs, carapacians, everything. They had lived for years in Sburb and they returned to Earth, thirteen years old without a day passing. Today was John Egbert's birthday, all their guardians returned to them, everything how it had been before. But their minds were of sixteen year old gods that had bent the rules of time and space and reality; and they acted that way. Aloof, unbelieving, with wisdom in their voices that scared their family. In a day, it seemed to their elders, their family members changed so much; grew up. But other than that, everything had seemed the same.

So why was the Condesce knocking at their door, burning it down with thousands of drones?

Dave has no time to wonder. The duo climb the building frame with extreme dexterity, and Dave takes the lead once more, slashing and fighting, with Bro covering their back. They find them selves circled, and take a defensive stance, back to back.

"When did you change?"

Dave shrugs, and Bro can feel the lift of shoulders and the definition of muscles he swears his baby brother didn't have a day ago when they strifed.

"You're lying to me."

They fight the surrounding drones, and drown in their element; heat and cutting and flips-twists-tumbles. Bro flashsteps; Dave does too. Dave never knew how to before. Yes, he was quick, but never just a flash. With his speed he takes over, and Bro steps back to wait his turn in this violent play. He knew at this moment that it was Dave's Act in the play of Life, and Bro could only provide an internal monologue of wonder.

Bro imagines his brother older, and can envision him with a suit and tie and success leaking out of his very pores, standing next to a slim figure with matching blonde hair and pulsing aura, grim expression as they face some unknown horror with a curling mane of black hair. Bro blinks, and now its his brother, at approximately sixteen, with a cape of deep red and a sword, broken but more terrifying than anything he ever wielded. He uses the sword as an extension of his body, swift and smooth and graceful, like a prowling panther. He blinks once more and he sees his brother, a vision of fire orange, glowing, with wings pumping out the rhythm of a smooth rap, of a heartbeat, of a tightly restrained power like no other. He blinks a last time, dazed from lucid hallucinations; he sees his brother standing there, amid robotics and shot shells and electricity, wildly windswept hair, red eyes open, looking at you, assessing you. Bro squints through the dusty haze long enough, and almost sees Dave's eyes different colors; stormy sky blue, jungle green, liquor lavender, like a concoction in a martini glass.

For a moment, Bro trembles for Roxy. Poor, pretty Roxy; she wouldn't know what to do if she was in their situation. He stops trembling. She will be fine. She's harder than he is.

"Let's get moving."

Bro stands still, shock of his brother's perfect execution of a large amount of drones leaking out. How did he do that? When did he learn to destroy? "Dave. What have you done?"

"Let's get moving."

"Dave, who are you?"

Dave shoots a glance around the area. They are surrounded, fire and melting steel and the prayer that rain will come soon. Dave wishes for powers, Dave wishes for John's wind, Jade's teleportation, Rose's resourcefulness. Dave wants to keep moving, but Dave knows that he's lost. It's not about skill, it's all about circumstance. And circumstance deemed Dave a victim. He lived in an over crowded death trap of fire, among people weaker and easily beaten whom he was determined to protect as best he could; he only started running when he couldn't save any more people. Jade didn't have to worry about a single person other than her Grandfather in her lonely island. Rose could sit pretty in her fortress of her house if she wished, letting her mom set up the house's extensive scientific security system. John could drive ten minutes and become lost to the Condesce in a flurry of trees and wildlife. Evacuation in a suburb is easy; especially if you've played Sburb. John could have helped everyone else out and still had time to bake a chocolate cake for the road.

"Dave, who _are_ you?"

"SOMEONE WHO'S FAILED YOU!" Dave screams with all the fury of a doomed god. He sounds like Hades, banished to the Underworld, hopeless to a Zeus far more unforgiving; the Condesce.

A silence lulls.

"Dave..." Bro breathes in, and coughs painfully. Bro wished he had gotten used to smoking at that moment.

Dave tilts his head down, kicking a metal peice on the floor, muttering to himself. He can't bare to look up at one of the most important people to him. One he wanted to become, to impress, but just screamed at. One who he couldn't even give hope of life to.

He wishes he had asked Eridan a few things about hope at that moment.

Bro walks closer, and catches words. "Not a hero." "...had one more chance." "Couldn't do better." "--fuck...for nothing."

Bro feels heat and smoke everywhere, clouding them. He can barely see his brother, and he's finally standing right next to him. He does not understand Dave, and in that moment he realizes he never has, and he never will. He hugs Dave, rough and calloused and dirty, bleeding and smoky, and Dave looks at his brother's hair, seeing the shine of red-orange fire reflecting from the sweat --or blood-- on the nape of his brother's neck. They both close their eyes, and let go, Bro leaving only an arm on his brothers shoulder. They still keep their eyes closed, the harsh light showing through closed lids, warning them of what comes closer.

"I think we did pretty damn good, Dave."

"..."

"I'm proud of you. Always. No matter how much you've grown, or how much I've fallen behind."

The light shining through lidded eyes gets brighter, hotter, like the sun is shining on them far too closely. _Burning_ **_Burning BURNING_**.

"Heh," a cough emits from the back of Dave's throat, and Bro can hear the wet sounds of blood. "You better be."

They turn to each other, eyes open, red onto orange, a fire of their own creation. A fire of life. Bro's eyes burn with the fire of knowing that this, this man-child, pure and strong and noble as a knight, a hero in his own right, was the same baby he had held in his hands and saved a college fund for and fed a dangerous creation of apple juice and pizza and chinese takeout. The same baby that had been taught to mix and fight and love shitty movies. The same kid that preserved weird ass shit because he was attached to it, and took beautiful photographs, and suddenly woke up sounding a hundred years wiser and nine thousand times stronger.

Dave's eyes burn with the realization that Bro cares much more than he's let on, and that Dave was so blind until today. They both close their eyes, silent tears evaporating before streaks could form on dusty cheeks.

"Dave. I lo--"

An inferno explodes atop the last standing steel structure, leaving silence, crackling fire, and the acrid taste of an unfinished sentence on the tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was my first HS story. It actually wasn't supposed to be a one shot at all. It was supposed to be a multi-chapter action fic. But push comes to shove and my muse takes over and I write this so that you all suffer. I'm still planning to do a Strider-centric multi chap fic with this sort of plotline but not really. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing this!
> 
> (But let's be honest I actually really hated writing this I feel terrible now.)


End file.
